


Happy Fucking Valentine's

by mrsmischief



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Teasing, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsmischief/pseuds/mrsmischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Hiddleston asks you to be his Valentine. What follows is much more than a box of chocolate or bouquet of flowers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Fucking Valentine's

"I know you're not too keen on all this Valentine's Day business..." Tom's voice purred in your ear, "...but would you be my Valentine?"  
You smiled and shook your head in amusement, leaning against his warm body as his arms wrapped around you. You finished washing up the last plate you had in your hands, then shook off the plastic gloves and turned around in his arms.  
"What exactly does being your Valentine include, if I may ask?" you asked, looking at him with a teasing glint in your eye. He loved it when you did that, when you turned on your tease gear. And it turned _him_ on...  
"Perhaps some _coït_..." he replied, leaning his head down to let your lips touch, only briefly, with a small smile on his lips. "And... _un_ _orgasme_. Or two."  
You laughed, not really out of amusement but because he knew exactly how to push your buttons. Feigned innocence, that smile, those soft lips on yours, then throw in some French... Yes, you had no choice but to agree.  
"Fine, I'll be your Valentine," you said, smiling.

At your words, Tom's smile grew wider, and he gave you another kiss. This time it was longer, deeper, harder... A preview of what was to come. He leaned down to place one of his hands behind your knees, the other around your shoulders, and scooped you up, quickly carrying you to the bedroom upstairs. He placed you down on the bed gently, and before you could say a word or move an inch he was there, crawling on top of you.

He radiated warmth, and soon you felt too hot in your clothes, and the kisses you shared became quicker and hotter with each new one. His lips took yours, caressing and claiming, and you put up no resistance. When he moved his mouth down to your jawline and neck you knew you were gone, defeated, conquered. You moaned, throwing your head back and offering your neck to him, asking for the sacrifice of your tender skin in return for pleasure. He happily gave that to you, licking and sucking your neck until it was guaranteed there would be a sign of your love there the following day, too.

But that was not the end of it, oh no. His mouth moved on, lower, to your collarbones, kissing a trail of wet kisses from one side to the other. You felt the arousal begin to grow inside you, his lips waking the fire inside you and the need, the need for him was soon burning in bright red flames. His quick hands pulled your shirt off you, and you returned the favour with his, eyes fixing onto the newly revealed skin. It wasn't your first time together, nor was it the second or even the third, but it all still felt new and exciting. Every time he was different, as were you. Every time it felt different. Every time it felt _better_.

The kisses on your stomach made you giggle and try to wriggle out from underneath him, but Tom shook his head and kept you in place with his hands.  
"It tickles!" you shrieked in between the fits of laughter. He laughed with you, but never stopped. No, instead he took it slower, making sure to touch every inch of skin visible until you were reduced to a laughing mess underneath him.

When he peeled off your jeans and began to apply those kisses on your hipbones and inner thighs, though, you suddenly wished the tickling sensation on your stomach would come back instead.  
"Tom, please..." you moaned, pushing your hips more towards him, trying to get him to understand what you wanted.  
"I know, I know," he murmured against your skin, licking a long line on the inside of your left thigh, "I know. I know exactly what you want..."  

He moved his body quickly, hovering on top of you again and crashing his lips back onto yours. You responded eagerly, your hands caressing his bare back and torso, feeling the lean muscles and the ridges of his body. His tongue peeked out, politely asking yours into a dance, and you complied, taking his tongue with yours and turning the waltz he had been thinking of into a fiery tango. You wanted him so much, perhaps more than ever before. And he knew it, oh, he knew: in the middle of the kiss he moved his hand, and all of a sudden you felt his fingers rubbing your wet folds and clit through your knickers. You bucked your hips into his hand and whimpered into his mouth, unable to take it any longer. His teeth nibbled on your lower lip, his mouth relentless in its caresses, as was his hand on you, rubbing and teasing you with feather light touches.

He must have felt how wet you were, even through the fabric, for he finally had mercy on you and pulled back, all the way to the other end of the bed. You let out a sigh of relief, but it wasn't for long: he leaned back in, his fingers hooked into your knickers, swiftly pulling them down and throwing them somewhere on the floor, you didn't care where. Now, without any obstacles on his path, he leaned down again, grabbing your ankles and placing your legs on his shoulders. You watched in eager anticipation as his head leaned closer, and when his hot mouth found your clit you thought you would explode there and then - it felt so good... It was impossible to tear your eyes away from the view in front of you, of Tom's face between your legs, framed by your thighs, and his mouth on you, his tongue lapping at you, licking you, tickling your clit... But his eyes refused to let go of you, and despite everything else that was happening that was perhaps the most elating part for you: the bold, brazen eye contact throughout it all. There was no escaping those beautiful ocean-coloured eyes and their intense gaze, no escaping the lust in them.

His tongue was fast, as were his fingers that soon joined the game, one by one until he was thrusting three long digits into you. It was driving you wild, the constant sensations and the passion and the fact that he seemed to love it as much as you did. He let out delighted moans every now and again, clearly pleased with how aroused you were... How much you wanted him and his touch.

But then, when you were almost there, almost at the peak of your pleasure and on the verge of that damn _little death_ , he stopped. _He stopped_. The fucker.

"What are you doing?" you immediately asked, or accused - at least your tone did. But he simply grinned at you, grabbing you by your hips and turning you around so that now he was lying down on the bed and you were straddling his hips.  
"I'm having fun with my Valentine," he replied, like the cheeky bastard he was, "and asking her to ride me. I know she wants to."  
"Fuck yes she does," you said quietly, getting slightly breathless even just by the thought. He knew what you liked, that he did. Your fingers moved quickly to open his jeans, and to slide them lower down his legs along with his boxers. He assisted you by lifting his hips, and once the clothing was low enough to not be on your way, you left it. You didn't care about the clothes, you cared about the cock. And right now it was right there, in front of you, standing tall and proud with the tip glistening with precum. You sat up higher on your knees, stroked it a few times, and then, rather unceremoniously sat down on it and let it sink deep inside you, all the way in. Both of you let out a pleased sigh, and you stayed still for a moment to adjust to it, to the new full feeling. Then, when you were ready, you began to ride. And this was no lazy Sunday ride out in the country, no. This was fucking rodeo.

Your hips moved quickly (it was a good thing to have a background as a dancer, wasn't it?), rolling round and round as your eyes rolled back in your head; it felt so good. Tom's hands found your hips, grabbing you tight from both sides and assisting your movements. His fingers dug deep into your skin, but you hardly noticed. All you saw were the bright lights in your eyes, behind your eyelids, and the music of your heavy breathing and his moans. Every moment it felt better and better, and your moved quicker and quicker. Suddenly, you felt his hands disappear, but before you managed to even open your eyes, you felt his lips on yours, kissing your fervently, and his arms around you. You opened your eyes, seeing he had sat up, unable to take it as his pleasure grew, too. You smiled and kissed him again, wrapping your arms around his neck as he began to thrust in you, too. This was it, the one last piece of the puzzle, and you clung to each other tighter as your moans became louder and louder, and then, then... The warm pleasure, the euphoria, and the bliss. You were panting into each other's mouths, gasping and cursing under your breath as the orgasm took you both away.

It took you long to recover and to untangle from the tight knot you had become. Slowly, you managed it, managed to lay down side by side on the bed, legs still entwined as you lay on your sides, looking into each other's eyes. His fingers played with yours, touching and stroking them, bringing them up to his lips to kiss them, and you chuckled under your breath.  
"What is it?" he asked, smiling brightly in his post-orgasm high.  
"Happy fuckingValentine's, right?" you grinned.  
"Happy _fucking_ Valentine's, indeed."


End file.
